Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

  • Self. Centered.

    I love to walk alone in the rain and snow the colder the wetter the better I hear, understand nature, myself, my perosnal nature a whole lot better character building personal challenge; to prevail against the cold, the wet, implies some sort of adversarial relationship we do not partake the colder the wetter the better… Read more

  • 3 for the 2nd

    Boondoggle Slovenly groundhogs stay in bed; Tweet conjecture. Masses pacified. Misdirected Celebratory nod today to the wiener; happy ground-hog day. Cozy Den of Iniquity Wither thou goest oh, hibernating rodent! Preach thine prediction! Read more

  • But is it art?

    Large, bold strokes spray painted symbols, words innocent and sinister hieroglyphs and slogans in black and blue on pulsating, animated canvas Names, times, events, places feelings and forgotten emotions weathered, all Some are ancient, indecipherable some still hurt some never did some are funny a few not at all Many names are legible, a.k.a’s various… Read more

  • Esoterically

    “Et tu, Brute?” exudes more raw panache than “Eebbeda, eebbeda, eebeda – that’s all, folks!” Abject profundity, treasured ironic historical declarations notwithstanding, as a poet and teacher of English language arts and crafts I am more keenly aware than most; when departing premises, punctuation trumps all. Read more

  • “Portrait de Madonna; mère de mes fils, vendredi soir” (Madonna portrait; mother of my sons, Friday night)

    After some ongoing, sad-eyed cajoling you agreed to a Friday night date night not of your choosing or comprehension posing for nervous artist and sketch pad you acquiesced to your best black pumps, resolute: no clenching of rose in teeth – concession gladly made by your love-struck middle-aged, middle-class, modicum talent Renoir with shaky charcoal… Read more

  • Comfy

    Certain memories are a favorite pair of old slippers; ragged, tattered, not much to look at, but comfortable in a way nothing new could be once you plucked them from the garbage; second thoughts? hard to part, sometimes, with a never-complaining old friend then again, sometimes it’s best to just let the dog chew ‘em… Read more

  • Whether banes

    You’ll never know what might have been you’ll never prove what could have been to loudly proclaim what should have been is the greatest of curses self-inflicted by men Read more

  • Dream sequence

    Quiet evening on my couch I fall asleep watching t.v. dozing, I awaken from a dream in which I was watching an old console television from the 60’s the picture was fuzzy, zigzagging, jumping around, unwatchable; in the remote-less era of my fantasy I get up, go to the monolithic set, turn real (silver plastic)… Read more

  • Inheritance

    Secrets punish. Secrets aren’t kept, they are stashed like loot from the robbery People collect antiques fondly save heirlooms obsess over baseball cards or Hummel figurines Secrets are stashed, hoarded holding their value like so many nuts in a dead-tree nest of a squirrel that ends up as road kill Secrets are not coveted mementos… Read more

  • Pilgrim

    I am a spiritual man I believe stuff. I have read a lot, lived a bunch, experienced much, seen and did things Other people of different places, peoples, cultures old ways and fresh ideas. have always piqued my curiosity Ideas of life, concepts of God, the/a hereafter, meanings of life, purposes for existing. Questions, asked… Read more